


My American Boy

by Lady_Ashwinder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, master of death! harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ashwinder/pseuds/Lady_Ashwinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he came to America on a forced vacation, Harry James Potter hadn't expected to meet one Alfred F. Jones. Not that he was exactly complaining of course....</p>
            </blockquote>





	My American Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Yes people, I am in fact a fan of Hetalia. And I am also a huge fan of America, and it is not the fact that I live in the country that makes me love the character. He is just completely awesome, and actually made me love my country more than I did. The guy is literally THE Candy Mountain; anyone who knows what I am referring to is completely awesome. At the moment, the pairing is pretty much set, though I’m contemplating as to whether or not I shall be adding a person to the pairing there. This is actually an old story idea, and I had planned it on the tenth anniversary of 9/11 as well as the execution of Troy Davis. Also I am sorry for the bit of angst that is present in the beginning, I was in one of those moods on the 11th and that was how it worked out. Well I’ve said my peace, let’s get on with this!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or Hetalia: Axis Powers. Those rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Hidekaz Himaruya. I’m only borrowing their characters and series in order to amuse myself.
> 
> Pairing (s): Alfred F. Jones (America)/Master of Death! Harry Potter, [possible] Alfred F. Jones (America)/Master of Death! Harry Potter/Arthur Kirkland (England)
> 
> Warning: This chapter of the story contains references to the terrorist attack on 9/11, if you cannot take this then I would advise that you not continue beyond this point. That day was tragic for everyone, including me, but I will not take someone insulting because I am used fanfiction to work my way through my depression for that day. Thank and enjoy.

~0o0~

My American Boy  
Chapter 1: The Color of Freedom

~0o0~

New York City, USA  
September 11, 2011

It has been a week since Harry James Potter had left Great Britain, and 14 years since the end of the 3rd Wizarding War. At first the 31-year-old wizard had been reluctant to leave his country, especially with his being deluded with the idea that he had to be in Magical Britain in order to make sure nothing happened. His presence had become quite a bit of a deterrent for anyone with any delusions of becoming a Dark Lord, and trying to take the place Voldemort had left behind with his demise in 1997. 

Of course, this assumption was subsequently squashed immediately by his friends and loved ones. The eternally young 31-year-old – been told he looks about 27, had practically been forced onto that plane with luggage and a phone number to contact his dear friend, Hermione Granger, in order to inform them when he arrived. 

Taking a picture of the Empire State Building and other things that caught his attention, the green-eyed Wizard smiled excitedly as he made a mental note to make it up to his friends for pushing him to take a vacation. Even though he had just truly begun his vacation, he already felt more relaxed than he has in years. Running a hand through his messy hair, he flicked the band that held the longer strands of his messy hair back into a ponytail as he hummed. He had been in New York for a few days, and he had already found himself enthralled by what had to be the busiest city in the whole country.

Pulling out a small book on the various sites in the Big Apple, Harry flipped through the pages of the small guide and his eyes landed on the name of a certain site and a small frown slid onto his face.

Out of all the places here in the city, this was one of the sites that he had been compelled to go the most.   
And it didn’t entirely have anything to do with his status as the Master of Death.

Chuckling sadly, Harry couldn’t help but find it ironic that he was here on this very day – September 11, which also marked the tenth anniversary of the day when everything seemed to change.

Harry was 21 at the time, and could remember that he had been busy doing his usual duties as the head of the Magical enforcement department’s most elite squad. The British Ministry had been contacted frantically by the American Magical Government that day, and backup had been dispatched on request. Immediately assembling a team of his best Aurors, they had flooed across the international channel and went ahead to help assist the American Aurors to stop some damage.

The sight that met his vision that day would forever be burned into his memory, and he was sure that he would never see something as heart-wrenching as what he witnessed that day. Sirens blaring as police officers and firefighters rushed forward putting their lives at risk to help anyone they could. Scorching flames engulfed the building, and people who had lost all hope of being able to outrun the flames had taken the only available option left to them. Their screams as they leapt from the building haunted his dreams for 2 years after that, and even now he could feel the presence of death from where he stood now.

Much to his shame and the other Aurors with them, it had taken the body of one of the jumpers hitting the pavement to knock them out of their horror-induced dazes. Cursing, he snapped towards his subordinates to hurry forward and help look for survivors in the building. To Muggle eyes, they looked like police officers as they had changed their usual uniforms to resemble those of the American Aurors. 

Any delusions of magic being able to make things better for them was immediately squashed when one of his subordinates were killed while trying to help a man from underneath some rubble.

Bringing a hand up to his face, Harry blocked his eyes from view.

Even now that resigned yet determined look had stayed with Harry as Blackwood urged them to go on as the roof over them began to collapse down on top of him – killing him instantly. Harry still blamed himself even now for bringing those young men into that kind of situation, and he would always do it for as long as he walked on this earth.   
Releasing a sigh, he pulled his hands away from his face and was shocked to see that he was in a different place. Green eyes looked at the area that seemed to be soaked in the bittersweet smell of Death, and the echoes of the souls that seemed to have been imprinted on this area. 

Staring at the place that was now called Ground Zero, Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The wind rustled his hair and clothes as took in the many emotions that had been soaked into the very ground. Anger, Terror, Hopelessness, and yet also courage, and hope – the last seemed to be steadily growing with every breath that he took.   
Exhaling, the black-haired wizard pulled out the Elder Wand after making sure that no one was around. With a flick of his wand, he changed a few small pebbles into wreathes of flowers that he enchanted to never wither away as long as the people still had the will to never let themselves lose hope. Placing it down in front of the memorial, memories of that day flashed through his mind once more, and this time he was able to feel awe at the resilience of the Muggle Americans.

Less had been done to the Wizarding community in Britain and they had all cowered and pushed someone else forward to deal with the problem…the main one being him. But these people no matter their race, religion, or creed had come together in order to move past this tragedy. There were still people in Britain would couldn’t even say Voldemort’s name despite him being dead!

Shaking his head, he squashed the small hint of anger that welled up in him at the thought of the sheep Wizarding Britain called citizens. Those so called superior beings would be able to learn a thing or two from those that they considered inferior to them. Praying for all the souls that had been taken on that day, he then turned on the heel of his trainers and left the site feeling as if a little weight was being lifted off of his shoulders. 

Gruuummmmmblllle

Stopping midway down the busy streets, Harry blinked in surprise and brought a hand to his stomach. Humming, a small blush formed on the wizard’s face as he realized that he hadn’t eaten since he had left the Hilton Hotel. It was obvious that like many times before, he had been distracted by all the sites that he didn’t notice how hungry he was getting.

Looking around for the closest place to eat, his green-eyes lit up and a smile spread on his young face at the sight of recognizable golden arches, completely oblivious to the appreciative looks he was receiving from people who were passing by. 

Quickly making his way towards the fast food restaurant, he slipped his tour book back into the small bag slung over his shoulder. Casting a quick anti-theft charm on the bag just in case, he continued towards the glass front doors of the McDonalds. Standing near the front was the mascot Ronald McDonald, and Harry chuckled at the thought of how his best friend Ron Weasley had commented – during one of his and Hermione’s various tours of Muggle Britain they had given the redhead, that the always chipper clown gave him the creeps.

The only other reason that Harry could even guess why the tall Auror was frightened by the clown was his Yellow and white outfit that looked too similar to the house colors of Hufflepuff.

After that one time he had been hexed by one pissed off Susan Bones, he’s had a fear of Hufflepuffs. Snickering at the memory, he opened the door and made his way towards the counter. Glancing up at the menu that hung over the counter – mentally doing a process of elimination through the options available to him, and he completely missed the way the young woman behind the register straightened up at the sight of him. Many of the fast food restaurant’s inhabitants’ eyes were drawn to him as he hummed.

“Hello sir! Welcome to McDonalds! How can I help you?”

~000O000~

Sipping the last bit of his cola, Alfred F. Jones or America – as he is known by the other Country Personifications, important key figures in his Government and the important figures of the other countries, slumped against the table and rested his head into the palm of his head. The world meeting had gone exactly as it always had, the countries fighting and generally getting nothing significant done. He hadn’t even felt like announcing another of his plans just because he knew they would all shoot it down without a thought, even if the idea was a good one, and realistic for once. 

No, he had sat down and watched as the other personified countries just argued back and forth over things that happened in the past or other inconsequential things. 

Running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, Alfred sat up in the booth of McDonalds and leaned back into the comfortable seat. No one had seemed to notice that he had nothing to say, even Britain who was usually so far up his ass that the younger country was surprised that his nose wasn’t brown. Britain or Arthur Kirkland, had been bickering once more with France – Francis Bonnefoy, about their past once again and about England’s lack of taste in food. Just thinking of it made the personification of America massage his temple in order to keep the coming headache at bay. Alfred hadn’t even felt like going to the World Conference, especially on this day and he was a bit insulted that they all seemed to disregard this. 

‘Not that it seemed to matter much to them…’

Grabbing his hamburger, he brought it up to take a bite when a voice broke through his thoughts. 

“Ah, I would like a number 10, large, as you Yanks say it please. Been sight-seeing a bit and I’m a little famished.”

Looking over towards the cash register, he had almost expected to see England himself there; discounting the fact that the bushy-browed country wouldn’t ever set foot in a fast food restaurant willingly, and was surprised at the person standing there. A man about the same height as Arthur stood there with a posture that told the glasses-wearing country that he was a soldier of some kind. Messy black hair sat on top of his head, and framed his androgynous face. But what had caught his attention the most were those luminous green eyes that shown out from beneath dark bangs. 

Pausing in his devouring of his burger, he slowly set the burger back down on the wrapper as he watched the British man interact with the girl who was obviously flirting with him. Not that it seemed like he realized it, which only seemed to make the man even more adorable to the blue-eyed country as the man looked confused at whatever the young woman was propositioning him with. Seeing the way the man was growing more uncomfortable by the second, especially when he finally got his meal and the woman didn’t seem like she was letting up on her attempts.

Alfred could feel that itch that he usually got in situations like this.

He knew that he needed to once again play the hero. 

Getting up from his chair, he made his way over to the man and placed his hand on his shoulder – all the while feeling the man tense up at the unexpected touch. “Well here you are! I’ve been waiting for you for a while now, did you get lost or something man?”

Snapping his head in his direction, sky blue met emerald green and a connection was formed in between them. After a second the man shook his head, and saw the help being given to him and gave the other a slight smile. The grinned widened on Alfred’s face as the man decided to play along.

“Sorry about that mate, but you have to know how confusing that is when every corner in this city seems to have a McDonalds.” 

Abruptly he laughed and felt the other jump slightly as well as everyone close by. “Don’t worry about it, I was sitting other there so let’s get down to business and plan on what to do for the rest of the day.” 

Receiving a nervous grin in response, the British male and followed him back to the booth where the blond’s food still sat. Slipping into the booth, Harry placed his bag next to him and looked up to his ‘Hero’ with bright green eyes while holding out his hand.

“Well, I appreciate the help from the evil cashier. I’d like to know the name of my Hero…my name is Harry Potter by the way.”

Blue eyes lit up and a large, charming grin spread across the dirty blond’s face causing a slight pang of attraction to ricochet throughout the Wizard’s body. He took the hand, and Harry found himself entranced by those eyes that practically sparkled behind his glasses. 

“My name is Alfred F. Jones, and it was my pleasure to be your Hero today.”

Returning his smile with one of his own, Harry, while looking into the other’s eyes decided that blue was the color of freedom. 

He decided then that the idea to go on this vacation wasn’t so bad as he made it out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Well here we are at the end of the first chapter! 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoyed it, and won’t mind leaving me a review. Would seriously help me know whether this idea is worth continuing, seeing as it is my first Harry Potter/Hetalia crossover ever. 
> 
> Next Time
> 
> Chapter 2: The Color of Change
> 
> “I’ve never felt this way about anyone like this before…”


End file.
